


Pick of the Litter

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-30
Updated: 2009-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flip-flops were fucking useless as protective gear, but Brad hadn't thought it necessary to don full body armor for a night at home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick of the Litter

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based on characters in the HBO miniseries.
> 
> Written for the [Generation Kill Porn Skirmish](http://getsome.oxoniensis.org/). Prompt: "Domestic schmoop with kittens. And porn. But not porn with kittens." Thanks to [](http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/profile)[**romanticalgirl**](http://romanticalgirl.livejournal.com/) for the super-fast beta, for coming up with a great title, and for being ultra-awesome.

Brad opened the front door and a kitten ran out in the front yard. Without even thinking, he scooped it up under his arm and brought it into the house with him. If the kitten had come from inside, then that's where it must belong, even though when he'd left the house, there hadn't been a cat in residence.

But seeing how he'd left the house six months ago and had been on an aircraft carrier since then, it was possible things had changed. Maybe Nate had gotten lonely and wanted a cat to keep him company.

The kitten mewled at him and Brad lifted it to look at it. "Do you object to being handled like a football? Is that the problem here?" It was cute, dark stripes and tortoiseshell colouring. It mewled again, reaching out with a soft paw to touch Brad's face. He checked—it was a girl. "Don't think I'm going to fall for your seduction technique, sweetheart. You're a pretty one, but I'm already promised to another." The kitten started purring and Brad grinned, tucking her into his chest and went off in search of Nate.

He found him in the kitchen, pouring cat food into bowls and talking to the kittens winding around his ankles. Brad counted them. Including the one nestling into the crook of his neck, there were _five_ cats. "You must have gotten very lonely, sir."

Nate looked up, a huge smile breaking out across his face. "I see that you met Eloise?"

"We haven't been formally introduced, but that hasn't stopped her from trying to crawl down my shirt. She reminds me a lot of Ray's ex-girlfriend, come to think of it."

"They got back together." Nate put down the cat food and started to move toward Brad, but there were kittens underfoot and Brad foresaw an ugly accident – or at the very least a squawk when somebody's tail was stepped on.

Nate eliminated the problem by reaching down and picking up the cats in his way. Brad grinned. "Way to show them who's boss."

"They're cats," said Nate, shifting them so that he cradled three of them in his arms. The cats didn't appear to have any problem with being jumbled together like that, they just curled up into him. It was a feat on everybody's part that nobody fell. "They already know that they're in charge and there's no telling them otherwise."

He leaned in to kiss Brad, and Brad met him halfway. He'd seen Nate at the homecoming three days before, but between his family vying for his attention and the rigid Navy assholes everywhere, all they'd managed was a hearty hug and a quick stolen kiss in the head. Brad wanted so much more.

Nate did too, apparently, his kiss starting as a soft buss across Brad's lips but quickly evolving into something much deeper, biting and sucking and stroking. Brad returned the kiss, pressing close to Nate, shifting Eloise to his shoulder so that he could put his hand to Nate's face. He cupped his jaw and drew him in closer, the kittens between them apparently not at all concerned that they were being pressed between two bodies.

"Fuck!" Brad jerked away as his foot was attacked. He looked down and saw the fifth kitten targeting him again, tiny claws and teeth ready to sink into his big toe. Flip-flops were fucking useless as protective gear, but Brad hadn't thought it necessary to don full body armor for a night at home. He knew better—always expect the unexpected.

Nate looked down, too. "That's George," he informed Brad. "He doesn't like to feel left out."

Nate sounded so blithe that Brad had to laugh. He reached down and picked up George, mock-glaring at the cat. "You're cockblocking, my man." George didn't appear to be concerned: he just licked his paw and looked at Brad expectantly. Brad sighed and tucked him in next to Eloise. "Nate—"

"Your niece found them at the beach, in a box by the water. They'd clearly been abandoned by somebody who was hoping that they'd drown."

"And since Debbie is allergic..." Brad's sister was allergic to everything. Dander, grass, pollen, strawberries, bees, nuts, shellfish—Brad always carried an epi pen whenever they got together.

Nate nodded. "Miri called animal control, but apparently they're got a glut of kittens right now, and they're putting them down almost as fast as they come in. So she called me to see if I had any ideas." One of the kittens wriggled but when Nate pet him, he settled down immediately. Brad wasn't surprised, he knew intimately how good Nate's touch felt.

"Was she crying?" His niece had learned early on that she could get Brad to do practically anything if her eyes even glinted with tears; he was curious to see if she'd tried the same technique on Nate.

"She tried." Nate rolled his eyes. "She's sixteen, Brad. I told her to save that for her uncle, but if she wanted to explain to me what was going on like a reasonable person, I'd be happy to help if I could."

"Hard-ass." Brad kissed him again.

"Not so much," Nate looked rueful. "I've still got a house full of five cats. And now I'm talking about them instead of fucking you."

"We'll get to that," Brad promised, rubbing his thumb over Nate's bottom lip, which was slightly pouty and wet after their kiss. "How long have you had them?"

Nate looked down at his armful of cats. Two of them were seriously fidgeting, so he set them down and they ran off. He held the remaining one with both hands, cradling her and petting her belly. When he looked back up there was something in his expression Brad had trouble identifying. "Four weeks," he said, somewhat defiantly.

Ah. The cats were still pretty small; Brad pegged them at about 8 weeks old. So that meant Nate had been caring for them since they were only about a month old. That look in his eyes was a protective one, because Nate had already claimed these cats as his own. "What's her name?" he asked, reaching out to pull Nate closer, his other hand still on George and Eloise, who had apparently settled in for naps. Their bodies were hot against Brad's shoulder, little furnaces burning away, and with Nate pressed up against his other side, he felt warm for the first time in months, after long months of being cold and damp at sea.

"Gabby." Nate paused. "The other two are Oscar and Elvis. I knew once I named them I was pretty much fucked. I'm sorry."

"I like cats," said Brad. "You know that. So I don't think you've committed a cardinal sin here. In fact, you could take in an entire platoon of stray cats and I wouldn't give a fuck if it's what you wanted." He studied Nate. "What's going on?"

"I've been working at home for the past few months, since I took on that new contract. I told you about that, it's easier to pass operations off to Becky while I get this done. I go in once a week and sign off on shit, but it's not the same as going to work every day. All told, I get a lot more done here on my own: it was a good decision and I don't regret it."

Brad nodded. Nate had emailed him about the change in his work situation; he'd sounded excited about getting back down to writing, to leave the management shit behind for a while.

"I haven't spent this much time alone since I wrote the first book." Nate shrugged. "It was fine, it just took some getting used to. But then these guys came along, and it got better. Miri stops by every day, even if it's just for a few minutes, which is great. And if I talk to myself, now, it's like somebody's always listening." His smile was self-deprecating. "They might not look like they have a lot to say about American interventionism, but Gabby here is definitely a Republican, and I'm relatively certain that George is a closet anarchist, he just doesn't want to admit it in case I stop feeding him."

Brad's heart twisted, listening to Nate. He didn't say anything and Nate nudged him. "Cat got your tongue?" He grinned. "Brad, it's fine. I'm only making myself out to be some gay, yuppie caricature of the a crazy cat lady—"

Brad kissed him to shut him up. "I didn't know you were lonely," he said roughly. "But I should have, because I lie in my rack at night and want to be with you so badly I can feel it, and I'm surrounded by people all the fucking time." He hugged Nate close to him, carefully to not jostle any of the little bodies between them. But George objected anyway, and scrambled down Brad's back. Brad winced as his claws dug in. "You think he's an anarchist _and_ a homophobe?"

Nate laughed. "We'll know for sure in a minute," he said, taking Eloise from Brad and setting both her and Gabby down. He pulled off his shirt and then started in on his belt buckle, grinning up at Brad. "You can be on top, for the trial run."

Brad shook his head, reaching down to cup Nate's dick. "I know more than one way to skin a cat, sir."


End file.
